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Post by Erik on Apr 16, 2007 21:17:51 GMT -5
*Erik walked in, Blanchette still in his arms. It seemed to be happy; it was purring. But what to feed a cat? He walked into the kitchen and surveyed the cupboards. There were some unidentifiable tins, some rather rancid bacon, a bit of cheese, and what he assumed had once been a carrot.
He set the cat down to open the tins, and finding one had some sort of preserved meat in it, set it before her. He thought it was a her. Maybe that was because it was somewhat clean, and white. White was dainty. Christine's skin was white. But not like the cat.*
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de Chenevier
- Ingenious Pilot -
Athena?se-Josette
Posts: 101
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Post by de Chenevier on Apr 17, 2007 14:36:18 GMT -5
((I love the way Erik's thought process goes.))
*Blanchette nimbly leapt down from the man's arms and started daintily licking at the can of... well, she wasn't precisely sure, but it tasted good. anything was better than garbage, being unable to catch mice and all. When she finished, she began rubbing aginst the man's legs and purring again.*
((btw, i have a collar with "Blanchette" embroidered on it on my neck.))
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Post by Erik on Apr 23, 2007 17:22:13 GMT -5
((Oh, thanks. Yeah, I forgot that part.))
*As the cat bent over the can, apparently not inclined to be finicky, Erik saw a band around her neck. It read "Blanchette," which he thought was perhaps a description but more probably a name.*
"Blanchette," *he murmered, trying it out.* "Does that mean you belong elsewhere?"
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 25, 2007 10:42:45 GMT -5
Meanwhile, Megan was in a back room, hiding from Sues, when she heard Erik come in.
Oh. SHIT.
She hadn't actually believed that there was still a Phantom- there are some things one just doesn't depend on too much, for fear of being disappointed- and she saw little wrong with... well, having read Leroux repeatedly ever since she was 11, she knew to bring something blunt with her in case she fell into the torture chamber. It had been pretty difficult lugging the stool out of the prop cupboard all the way down to the fifth cellar, but she'd managed, and she'd hurled it at each of the glass walls of the torture chamber until it crashed through and into the lair.
She felt incredibly stupid now. Any minute now, Erik would walk back here, find the glass and the mess, and she was as good as Punjabbed.
Erik...
The thought of seeing him face-to-face- well, face-to-mask- did not tantalize her in the least. In fact, she was so overcome with fear that she thought she might throw up.
He's gonna kill me.
This vacation had obviously been a bad idea.
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Post by Erik on Apr 25, 2007 11:33:56 GMT -5
((A scared Sue? That's novel.))
*Erik's keen hearing caught something in another part of the house.*
"Did you hear that, Blanchette? Is there a mouse in the house?"
*He instantly regretted his choice of words, in case it really was Fievel-mouse, in which case he would not like the cat, white and dainty as she was, to eat it. He stalked towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the parlour.
He was surprised, to say the least, to find a girl-child sitting amidst shards of what used to be his torture chamber.*
"DOES NO ONE FEAR THE OPERA GHOST?" *he demanded of the world at large. He towered over the girl, mask in place but fire lashing from his eyes, venom flowing through his veins. He had built an empire, held it fast for eons, and now in the space of a few short days his existence was shot to hell. Not to mention the lack of respect he'd been accorded. It would not do.*
"EXPLAIN YOURSELF, CHILD; WHY SHOULD THE PHANTOM SPARE YOUR MISERABLE LIFE?"
*The effect was somewhat mitigated by the fluffy white cat in his arms, he mused.*
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 25, 2007 11:44:24 GMT -5
((Well, it's not so much a Sue as... really me. That picture is really of me. That's what I do- I do stupid things that I panic about and regret later.))
Megan ((who though only 18 has been mistaken for a woman in her 30s on occasion- it's true)) cowered before him. And not in the cute "about-to-be-bitten-by-a-vampire" way, but shaking, cold and trying hard not to sob.
"B-Believe me!" she gasped. "I f-fear the Opera Ghost... I fear you plenty- I just d-didn't realize you were still... still here. Honestly! If you n-need me to help pay for the glass- or work it off- I will- just please, please don't hurt me!"
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 25, 2007 11:48:51 GMT -5
At that moment, what nerve she had left collapsed. Megan made a choking noise and started absolutely bawling.
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Post by Erik on Apr 25, 2007 14:57:45 GMT -5
((Oh, I know, but it's always funny when actual human behavior is exhibited here. Do you like being mistaken for older? Or do you care?))
*Erik dropped Blanchette in his dismay at the bawling mess of woman before him. Crying women were not something he felt capable of dealing with. A direct assault was one thing, a stealthy campaign that much better, but this? Killing her would just seem... rude.*
"Quiet," *he snapped.* "Erik cannot think with your caterwauling. One would think Carlotta was back from hell, or whever she's retired to."
*He bent low to gaze into her face, without bending his knees.*
"Now. You are going to tell me why everyone and their sainted mother knows where Erik lives. And then we shall see about your... payment."
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 25, 2007 15:30:11 GMT -5
((I don't care; I only posted that because Erik initially took me as a "girl-child", and most people wouldn't.))
"Th-there's a b-book. It says a lot about you. And then there's movies- and a musical- and all kinds of stuff- and it's based off the book. And it says you live here, in the cel- in the cellars. So I came to find you- or rather, where you lived... because I thought you were... dead. I only wanted to know that it- that you happened."
She took a deep breath and made sure her mascara wasn't running.
"I'm one of the last holdouts, Er- I mean, sir. I don't know if you've seen this Gerik person, but- but there's too many people who think he's you, and he's not. But I believed in you, whatever that package includes. I mean-" She paused, as though weighing the likelihood of her next comment getting her killed. "I know what you look like under there. Or at least, I have an idea..."
She gestured feebly at his mask, without removing it.
"You look like you're meant to- and you sound like I always hoped you would. You even- You even smell right. I am just... in awe right now, and the last thing I want is for you to hate me. Or at least hate me more than you hate everybody else in the world, because I kind of love you. Not even romantically. I just-"
She smiled very shyly.
"I'm not going to try to have your babies or anything. It's not that kind of love, I don't think. But have loved you ever since I was 11 years old and I read that book. I always thought, 'I'd want to meet this guy'. I don't even know why I thought that. But if you want to keep me here to slave- and I mean regular slave, not... you know... I'll do anything you ask of me, although I should also tell you that I have seen V for Vendetta, so I'll know if a faceless inquisitor arrests me, it's you, so that won't work. And I'm also quite attached to my hair, considering it's the only really pretty thing about-"
She stopped again, this time covering her mouth in apologetic shock.
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I shouldn't complain about things like that to... you..."
She stared at him for a long time.
"Wow," she said finally.
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Post by Erik on Apr 25, 2007 16:06:39 GMT -5
*Incomprehension settled on Erik like a soggy blanket. A book? A Gerik? His package? The woman was clearly insane--and coming from him, that meant something. How was he supposed to smell?*
"Erik doesn't know what you're talking about, woman, and you talk a great deal," *he said when it seemed she was going to allow him a word or two.* "But you are clearly a hazard to yourself and others, including Erik, even if you cannot be held responsible for your deplorable condition. Erik has spared more lives today than he has the desire to count, and it is tiring. So tell me, in as few words as possible, what you hoped to find here, if Erik was intended, as you say, to be dead?"
*There was much he could not explain; things she appeared to know that none but Nadir, and perhaps Giry, should. Had she talked to either of them? Well, he couldn't dispose of her until he knew if he was in any danger.*
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 26, 2007 11:25:02 GMT -5
"You speak in the third person and everything," Megan sighed, smiling dreamily. Abruptly, she snapped back to the land of the living.
"I wanted to find the house, that's all," she said finally. "Some proof that you existed. See- look. This is the book."
She dug into her purse for a moment and produced a weatherbeaten paperback with the words THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA splashed across the front in cracked blue lettering.
"I don't know what the ratio of facts to... er, non-facts is in here, but it's what taught me what I needed to know to get this far. Here, you can look at it if you like..."
As she handed him the book, their fingertips touched for half an instant. Megan drew her hand back so abruptly that the book tumbled to the ground.
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Post by Erik on Apr 26, 2007 17:09:09 GMT -5
*Erik hid the slash of pain that bit him deep in the heart when she flinched. Christine had hated to touch him too, until the very end. When she had touched him long enough to soften his heart, and no more. Instead he sneered at her as he bent to retrieve the book. The paper was most unusual, and the binding curious. The cover was soft, but shiny. It was like no other book he'd seen before. And the title... Not to mention the white mask in the corner, which was inexplicable.
Ignoring her now, he thumbed through the novel, his sunken eyes widening as the names jumped out at him. Names he knew well. Words he recalled, even. And there, near the end, a page of dialogue--a monologue, really--his own speech to the daroga, replicated in exacting type.
The book dropped from nerveless fingers, and there was a moisture he could not understand gathering beneath his mask.*
"Who would dare... where does this... How does he know?"
*He turned back to Megan.*
"How is it possible?" *he pleaded, but he hated the sound of his own voice.* "It is an elaborate trick," *he announced firmly.* "A falsehood meant to... Who put you up to this?"
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 26, 2007 17:15:35 GMT -5
"Believe me, sir, all my friends are too sensible to try to get me to do something stupid."
She was silent for a moment.
"And I'm sorry my hand is all sweaty," she added.
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Post by Erik on Apr 26, 2007 17:24:58 GMT -5
*Erik fixed her with a dark look.*
"You are assuming Erik believes you have friends," *he said with unnecessary meanness. He turned and began pacing, his shoes grinding the broken glass into the carpet. He could not explain the little book, nor the woman's appearance, but he knew enough about staying alive.*
"You seem as ignorant as you are mysterious," *he said at last.* "Erik does not think it safe to allow someone with as much knowledge as you seem to have walk about Up There. Therefore, he sees fit that you should, for the time being, work in his house. Starting with the mess you've made of the torture chamber, which you cannot have known about to begin with."
*He turned to face her, conscious of his great advantage in terms of height.*
"Well? Does that seem an appropriate exchange for your life?"
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Post by Lady Norrington on Apr 26, 2007 17:27:50 GMT -5
((First time in my life I've ever felt short, virtually or otherwise.))
Megan released a huge sigh of relief. "That's... that's better than I was expecting. I know you're not always the most merciful of guys, so... thank you."
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